


#6: Broken Things

by Winchester_Writer



Series: The Mama Spider and Baby Spider Series [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 16:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20411008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchester_Writer/pseuds/Winchester_Writer
Summary: Peter is broken, broken beyond repair.





	#6: Broken Things

**Author's Note:**

> This is, it's a heavy one... it was hard for me to write, that's why it's so short. I broke down once or twice while writing this. I think we've all felt like Peter at times and I want you to know that if you have, you aren't alone. Everyone has. At the end of this series I'll be posting a list of resources, sites, and numbers in case you need help. Know that you aren't weak to need help and that reaching out is one of the best things you could ever do. If you can't do it for yourself, do it for your family, for your friends, heck do it for me.. because I care about you. Because I admire your courage and your love and your strength. And guess what, I couldn't bear to lose you. If you need help, I'm here. Don't hesitate to reach out. You are so much stronger than you believe.

__ They say that one of the worst fates a human being can meet is being buried alive. It is said that the weight of whatever is being piled on top of you slowly crushes down. That it hits your chest and starts to crush your bones, but you can feel every single moment. They say that a person can feel their breathe slowly leave, moving from deep breathes to short gasps, panic filling a person's chest. But there’s one thing that people don’t tell you about being buried alive. As the dirt comes careening down onto your chest and the breath leaves your chest, there’s a moment of calmness. A brief moment where the breathe comes into your lungs and removes the pain that is burning inside. It’s this moment of bliss before the last bit of pain comes and ends everything. It’s the worst thing you could ever imagine. 

Peter disagreed with that, this was worse. He didn’t have to imagine it, he was living through it. Peter had lost May, Ben, and pretty much everyone in his life. He was now living in Stark Tower, Tony was his dad, and he had his Aunt Natasha. According to everything that was happening, Peter should be okay. Yes he had gone through a terrible loss, but he had other people, he had a family. He should be happy, why couldn’t he just be happy?

Peter walked through his school halls and sighed, banging his head against his locker. Ned came up to him.

“Hey Pete, you okay?”

“I’m fine, Ned. Just tired.”

That wasn’t untrue. Peter couldn’t sleep, every time he closed his eyes all he saw was May dying, over and over again. 

“Oh okay. I was wondering if you wanted to come over tonight?”

“I can’t tonight, Ned. I have stuff to do at Stark Tower.”

“Oh okay. Well, I’m here if you want to talk or just want to hang out.”

“Thanks Ned.”

Peter felt like a jerk. He had a family, he had friends, why couldn’t he be happy?   


Peter decided to take the long way home after school. He walked around Manhattan and took in the sights and smells of the city. Peter let the cold wind chill his face and he started to shiver. He ended up running into a homeless man as he was on his way back. Peter fished out a couple of coins and put them in his cup.

“It’s cold today, isn’t it?” he asked the man.

“It is. At least you have a home to go back to. Get nice and warm in there.”

“Yeah,” Peter dropped his backpack and then wrenched off his old, tattered gray sweatshirt. 

“I know it’s not the best, but it’s all I have right now.”

Peter handed the man the sweatshirt and the man thanked him over and over again. Peter shivered as he walked back to Stark Tower. He had a family, friends, and a home, why couldn’t he just be happy?

Peter walked into his room and put his backpack on the desk, sighing. He started to fish out pens and pencils from the drawers at the desk. As he reached for a pen a glint of light coming from the back of the drawer caught his eye. His attention was drawn to it as all the bad thoughts became present in his mind. Peter’s hand reached out for the object and he nicked his finger on the edge of the blade. 

“Maybe this could make me happy?”   


He thought that maybe making him bleed could be the answer. It turned out that the moment the blade hit his skin, was the moment of peace that people experience when they’re being buried alive. He felt calm, red blood washing away his pain and the thoughts he was feeling. As soon as it was over, the heaviness on his chest came back. The dirt was being poured on him again, he was being buried. 

Everyday, Peter yearned and longed for that moment of peace. For the pain to let him breathe for just a second before the weight came crashing down again. He never wore anything other than his MIT sweatshirt, the long sleeves covering the red lines that dotted his wrists. His arms were covered in scars that marked the moments of peace in the never-ending cycle of being crushed. 

He walked into ballet one day and Natasha smiled at him.

“Hi Pauchok. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Hi Aunt Natasha.”

Peter was still wearing the sweatshirt, wishing that he could go back to the moment of peace when the blade touched his skin. 

“Shall we dance, my little spider?”

The two danced around the room, but Natasha could tell that his head and heart weren’t in it. She wondered what was wrong, what was bugging him.

He had an Aunt Natasha who loved him, he had a family, why couldn’t he be happy?   


As soon as he left the ballet room, Peter brought back the peace, the blades digging into his skin. His arms were lined with scars, no room for new cuts, but he made them anyway. Peter came into ballet the next day still wearing the sweatshirt. Natasha thought it was much too hot for him to be wearing it. 

“Pauchok, take off the sweatshirt, it’s going to make you too hot while we dance.”

Peter’s mind started to turn, a million miles a minute.

“I’m okay, Aunt Natasha. I’d like to keep it on.”

“Peter, you can’t properly dance with it on.”

There was an edge in Natasha’s voice that told Peter she meant business. Peter slowly gulped and then took off the sweatshirt, this was the moment after the peace. When everything came crashing down for the last time and the person floated into unconsciousness. The sweatshirt came off and Natasha’s mouth dropped open.

“Pauchok?”   


Peter couldn’t speak, he was seeing black, his whole world crashing down around him. It was too loud, but too quiet. It was everything at once and nothing at all. He was shaking now, the tears running down his face, he couldn’t make it stop. He was falling down, physically and mentally. Peter’s knees gave out and he started to slump forward. Natasha didn’t hesitate to jump into action, grabbing him before he hit the ground. 

“It’s okay Pauchok, it’s okay. Your Aunt Tasha is here, I’ve got you.”

The weight was lifted ever so slightly, maybe he wasn’t dying. Natasha began to sing to her little spider, swaying back and forth. The weight lifted a bit more. 

“Let’s go to the living room, Pauchok.”

Natasha held Peter’s hand as they walked to the living room and sat on the couch. Natasha sat on the coffee table directly in front of Peter.

“Little spider, I’ll be right back, I need to grab some things.”   


She got up and practically ran to the bathroom, grabbing the med-kit under the sink. Natasha looked into the mirror and then wiped away the tears that were falling. She looked at the mirror and then punched it, shattering the glass. Natasha took a deep breath, wiped the tears away, and then walked back out. 

“Let me see your arms, Pauchok.”

Peter stuck out his arms without a word, his breath hitching as he did. 

“Oh Peter. It’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you.”

Natasha gently wiped away the blood and the scabs, cleaning everything off. She then took a large ace bandage and wrapped both of them up. She then took both of his arms and kissed them gently. The weight lifted a bit more. Natasha walked away for another minute and then made a quick dinner, bringing it back out to Peter. He grabbed the plate from her and started to eat slowly. 

He had a family, an Aunt Natasha, food, a home, why couldn’t he be happy? 

The plate was thrown against the wall, food flying everywhere. Hot tears flowed down Peter’s face as he breathed shakily. He was so, so angry. Why did they have to take May and where were his blades?

Natasha grabbed Peter and pulled him close to her. 

“Shh, Pauchok, shh.”

“It’s not fair, it’s not f****** fair!”   


“It’s not, Pauchok, it really isn’t. I’m here though Peter. I know I’m not May, but I’m here. I’ll be here for as long as you need me.”

The rage came out in a profanity filled rant. He grabbed the coffee table and chucked it to the other side of the room. Natasha stood up after him and then Peter grabbed onto her, burying his head in her shoulder. The tears soaked into her shirt and she couldn’t stop a few of her own from falling.

“We’ll be okay, Peter.”

Being buried alive wasn’t the worst thing you could ever imagine. The weight would kill you after a short amount of time and you’d drift off into blissful slumber. No, it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to you. The worst thing that could happen to you was being buried alive and not being able to die. Peter was being buried alive and he couldn’t die. Why couldn’t he just die?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments and kudos are appreciated.


End file.
